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🌹•❅─────── •°•
DATE ─────── 1640 ─────── BEFORE EVENTS OF DAMSEL
Alya was being led through the royal corridors of castle.
A servant struts behind her, mopping her footsteps as her steps make noticeable dirt marks on the marble floor. Two guards walk right beside her. Their chain armor clanks against each other as they walk with purpose. She looked around as she was being led. The polished marble floor, surrounded by walls adorned with intricate tapestries depicting the royal houses' historic battles and their noble lineage. She no doubt took notice of the one that had a shocking resemblance to the prince. He stood on the side of his mother, her majesty. She sat in an exquisite chair with her dress filled with gold and riches. Holding the possessions of a coronation, while the husband stood on the other side of the chair. It was a sight to see them made from wool, their faces exactly the same.
She trails her eyes off and looks ahead. The air had a natural smell to it. Exotic flowers filled the narrow yet long corridors. After every step she took, she saw chandeliers handing off the patterned ceiling, illuminating the path ahead with a warm, regal glow. The corridor seemed to stretch on endlessly, whispering tales of grandeur and her majesty with every step.
It would be an honor to step foot through the entire palace of her majesty if it weren't for her current dilemma. The two guards grip on each of her forearms would surely leave a dent by the force they held her with. They turned to another hall, but this one wasn't as grandeur as the others. The walls were in plain white, and the narrow hall only stretched six feet. The door was wooden and outlined in a crimson paint, which was peeling throughout. The guard to her left uses his other hand to pound the door repeatedly.
He kept hitting until the door opened swiftly as a woman leans against it. "Must you be a nuisance?" She asks, her accent rolled off her tongue with ease much like everyone else there. Her burnette hair was tied behind her head, and her brown eyes showed a young fire barely expanding.
Both guards grunt at her ill tongue. "Do speak like that again, I will have her majesty delay supper for all maids."
The woman looked to the guards nonchalantly and rolled her eyes. She then drifted to Alya, who stood still in her grimy garments. Her eyes widened, and she began to speak until she was gently pushed aside.
"Pardon my apprentice. She does not know her place yet." A woman who seemed way older than the previous one spoke diligently. She wore a red dress, with fewer riches, none at all. It was plain red mixed with white, and a white apron covered her neck to her waist. The dressed had no puff to it. It laid flatly against her sides.
